


bright as my stars

by DA830



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Is this angst, M/M, Unrequited Crush, sunset/moonlight feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DA830/pseuds/DA830
Summary: The stars are bright tonight, but not as bright as his burning heart.





	bright as my stars

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr aesthetic title, check  
> gay angst, check  
> makes sense my first work on here is a gay rarepair if Fire Emblem even has rarepairs. Does this even count as angst though

The stars are bright tonight. They twinkle down with an open embrace and smiling faces.

The expanse above is kind. The moon keeps its silent, unobscured watch, basking the world in its enthusiasm.

He is almost like the moon. The moon is calm and unwavering and beautiful. He is stoic and keeps his head about him in the most outlandish of situations.

He is not beautiful.

Not beautiful in the way he talks so formally, not beautiful in the way he walks so wobbly, not beautiful in the way he moves so rigidly. Not beautiful in the way he thinks so romantically, pervertedly, stupidly -

Kisaragi is beautiful. The way his smile brings fire into his eyes, the way his laugh brings smiles to others’, the way he can bring the shuttlecock down so gracefully and the look of determination that accompanies the fluid action. The way his touch is warm and comforting and familiar but will never be his.

“How do you think practice went?”

The hot summer air wraps the words in a blanket as he falls into step along Kisaragi.

“It was okay.”

He absentmindedly hooks his thumbs under the straps of his homework-ridden backpack, watching the ashen-haired boy release a puff of breath into the warm night. Kisaragi glances sideways, a peculiar expression on his face.

“You okay?”

The moonlight falls softly on him, defining each and every one of his features, heightening the shadows, dusting his hair with gentle silver shine.

When he falls into routine, he falls into love.

“I’m fine.”

The words that fall from his lips are devoid of emotion, as flat as he can afford to make them.

He notices how Kisaragi pouts slightly to one side, chewing on his cheek, the subtly stubborn stop of his breath, the little emotional idiosyncrasies he’s noticed and grown comfortable with every day for as long as he can recall.

Kisaragi sidles closer. “I don’t know, Hisame, you’ve seemed pretty down these last couple o’ days.”

They both keep their vision straight ahead in companionable silence. The sidewalk stretches along the forlorn-looking school field and the road is traffic-free.

Kisaragi is boisterous and outgoing and everything Hisame isn't, and that’s what everyone knows. He likes to think he knows his friend better than anyone else in the world.

Kisaragi is more than a people person, more than a converser. He knows when Hisame’s feeling down, he supports, but most importantly, he listens.

A pang of restlessness strikes him. Was he being selfish to keep this side of his childhood friend all to himself?

“It’s really nothing,” he insists, even though it will always be more than everything. He stiffens and almost loses the rhythm in his feet when Kisaragi rests a soft hand on his shoulder, easily accommodating his pace.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? We’re close friends, after all.”

And he knows Kisaragi is reluctant to use the term best friends because it’s so superficial, so indulgent, and that’s some of the deepest insight he’s ever had into his best friend, but the way it just slips out so easily, the trust in those two sentences, is he being selfish to continue holding on?

“I know,” he says, and from the look Kisaragi gives him, he’s wary that the moon has finally betrayed him, betrayed the careful smattering of a blush on his cheeks, but the night is again on his side, as Kisaragi’s only waiting for Hisame to reassure him with a smile, a smile he can barely bring to fruition through the layers of conflict he harbors inside.

Kisaragi smiles back, and it’s more than the huge grins he gives to people at school, more than the smirk he shows off after spiking on his opponent, way more than the sloppy, lovestruck smiles he’s known for among the girls; no, this doesn’t compare in size or in feeling. The smile Hisame receives is small and tender and he never wants to let it go.

It’s disgusting and shameful, his cowardice, but he can’t very well blurt it out, not after Kisaragi’s shown off his affection for girls more times than he can count, and what’s wrong with the way things are, anyways?

The lies he tells himself keep coming as long as they travel their well-worn path home from the late night’s practice.

“Hey...wanna sleep over tonight?”

The question takes him by complete surprise and this time, he does trip and fall, flinging a hand out to break the blow to his face. He slips on the loose gravel and then he’s on his side, wheezing for breath.

Kisaragi crouches by his head, a hand in his mouth, shaking in laughter.

“Oh, my gods - are you okay?” he manages to sputter out before dissolving into giggles.

The wholesome sound reaches his ears and he’s blushing again, but luckily his face is in the gravel and his body’s on the ground and he manages to turn his face while getting up, under the pretense of a wounded ego. Nothing more’s wounded except his hand and his heart.

“Thanks for helping me up,” he retorts dryly. He brushes off his shorts and readjusts his bag, swiping a palm across his cheek to rid himself of the grit, but pulls away when he feels cold air hit whatever’s on his cheek.

He hurriedly wipes the blood off his scrapes on his shirt, thank goodness he chose to wear burgundy today, and bunches up the material in his hand, hoping Kisaragi wouldn’t notice. The movement catches his attention, though, and he forgot to clean his face -

“Oh, are you bleeding?” A thumb comes up to brush the wetness on his cheek away, and to his horror, he finds himself leaning into the contact unconsciously.

“Ah!” He recoils, stumbling backwards, away from human touch, away from his wishes. Kisaragi is only surprised, not offended.

“Sorry, did I hit your wound? Is your cheek cut?”

It’s funny how he’s able to change the atmosphere so quickly, to change his tone of voice, his outlook, so endearingly.

“I’m...I’m good. Only my hand’s cut, see?” He holds up the sliver, already dripping blood again, but it doesn’t hurt compared to what he’s feeling inside. He breathes in deeply, subdued by the sudden pain.

Kisaragi sucks in a breath, but experience has told him that it looks worse than it actually is, messed up in dirt and dried blood. He’s glad Kisaragi cares, but why wouldn’t he?

“Come to my house first, it’s closer and I can get you a band-aid.”

“We’re literally neighbours,” Hisame replies, eliciting a chuckle from the other boy.

“I know, but you’re still gonna sleep over, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, trying to contain the excitement growing alongside his pain. He twists his shirt into his hand, it’s going to be washed regardless.

Kisaragi fills the rest of the walk by regaling Hisame with his pickup stories, something he has no shortage of.

This is where he wants to be. Passing the high school on the corner with his neighbour, his best friend, in animated conversation, this is where his mind wants to be - but how about his heart?

He dawdles on the threshold of the red house, halfheartedly calling out “pardon the intrusion!” and waiting for the little bundle of energy that is Kisaragi’s little sister to grab his leaking hand and guide him into the house.

He knows his neighbour’s house as well as his own, knows the inhabitants of this house as a second family (honestly, they kind of were with their dads’ close friendship).

He sits at the counter, bag still on, as Kisaragi wraps his hand in a bandage. His touch is gentle and he’s lucky it’s warm because then he has a reason to blush.

“Is this good?”

“That’s fine.”

Kisaragi smiles in relief, and suddenly it’s rushing up in him like bubbles in a bathtub, the words appear in his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say and opens his mouth to speak -

And looks around. Kisaragi is looking at him expectantly and he closes his mouth.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replies, even though it will always, always pain him until he dies, gnaw at him until he breaks, hit him until he’s utterly broken and defeated.

His stars are bright tonight, but he’s sure his heart will burn brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I love putting my sons through emotional pain !!  
> This came on in a whim and now I adore the thought of these two being neighbours and having random sleepovers together and basically being really good friends on the badminton team  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
